Phil's Wife
by InSilva
Summary: Phil Turrentine." "Dead." "No s**t. On the job?" "Skin cancer." “You send flowers?” “Dated his wife for a while.” One-shot.


Phil's Wife By InSilva

Disclaimer: not mine. Just playing in the playground, watching Rusty cheat at marbles and Yen come down the slide backwards.

Summary: "Phil Turrentine." "Dead." "No shit. On the job?" "Skin cancer." "You send flowers?" "Dated his wife for a while." One-shot.

* * *

Rusty sighed and looked down at the empty coffee cup and wondered again just how this had happened. Wasn't like it had been planned. Wasn't like she had planned it either. He'd have spotted that a mile away and he'd have run for the hills.

* * *

He'd been trying to do the nice thing. The right thing. And sometimes when Danny wasn't around - and it seemed like an eternity already and it had only been nineteen and a half months – sometimes, just occasionally, when he didn't have the luxury of checking his instincts, he found himself making the wrong call.

Not about jobs although it was probable that Danny wouldn't completely approve of some of the things he'd undertaken. Risk assessment was easier to be more casual about when the only one you were risking was yourself. Not that he was careless. They might not be talking right now exactly, but he was willing to bet Danny would never talk to him again if he went and got himself killed.

So he'd heard the news and he'd debated about sending a letter or making a phone call. Some sort of acknowledgement was needed, obviously. Phil was a good man. Phil _had been_ a good man. And even if it seemed more fitting, more obvious that something might have gone wrong on the job, it didn't take away the fact that Phil was dead and not in a good way.

Dinah would be broken up. They'd been married for a long time and they had been happy. He thought of Dinah crying and he thought what Danny would do and he drove and knocked on her door. A middle-aged woman he had never seen before in his life answered.

"Can I help you?" she asked and her several chins wobbled around the too tight pearls.

"I came to see Dinah," he said, slightly transfixed and he told the part of him that was looking to place bets on when the necklace would break to shut up because there was no one here to play along.

"Dinah!" the woman cried shrilly. "There's a man to see you."

Dinah's face appeared, pretty and miserable, framed by shoulder-length blonde hair.

"Oh, Rusty…" she said with a sad smile. "Come on inside."

Inside was filled with what seemed to be a hundred females who appeared to be related to either Dinah or Phil in various different ways. Dinah shot out introductions as they went past and even with his memory it was a task to keep up as Dinah led him out to the patio.

"Such a shock, Rusty," she sighed. "We knew it was coming but you're never prepared."

"No. No." There was no right time for death.

"Dinah!" The shrill was there again. "Mrs Collins at the door for you."

"Oh, that's the lady about the flowers at the service," Dinah said. "Will you excuse me?" She turned to three women in their forties. "Madeleine, Kate, Trudi. This is Rusty, a friend of Phil's. Rusty, these are Phil's cousins. Keep him company for me, ladies, would you?"

He smiled at them and sat down awkwardly opposite. Trudi looked at him and sniffed.

"So you knew Phil."

"Yes, I did," he said politely. "It's a great loss."

"How well d'you know him?" Madeleine asked.

Well enough to know what he did, not well enough to know if _she_ knew what he did.

"Just a casual acquaintance," Rusty replied. "I just came to pay my condolences to Dinah."

The three women looked at each other and there was knowingness and archness and assumptions being made right in front of him. Another two women appeared at his side.

"Lorraine, Tildy, come and sit down," Kate instructed. "This is Rusty. He just came to see Dinah."

Lorraine and Tildy – Phil's half-sisters, he was sure – drew up chairs and he thought that this was how a bug under a microscope must feel. There was no sign of Dinah. There was just a quinumvirate that looked like it was going to enjoy the interrogation.

He was a brave man. He'd dealt with pain beyond belief and he'd not only laughed in the face of danger, he'd treated it to a stand-up comedy routine. And there was part of him that wanted to sit it out and grin and let the conversation ride. If Danny had been here… He felt his nerve slipping.

"Got to run," he said and stood up and did just that.

* * *

He hadn't seen Dinah as he flew through the sea of women and out of the house and it was only as he was driving away that he realised he hadn't actually paid his respects.

_Damn._

The thing was, now he couldn't just send a note or make a call. Now, he had to go back in person. Had to go and tell Dinah how sorry he was for bolting like a big winner from a poker game and make up an excuse why. He left it a few days and made himself knock on the door, ignoring all the while the amusement alongside him that should have been there but wasn't.

"Can I help you?"

It was the lady with the chins again. What was _with _that? Was she on permanent door duty?

"I came to see Dinah," he said again and she looked at him.

"They're at the service," she said. "But you can come in and wait."

Service. Right. She held the door open expectantly and he stepped inside.

There was a long table of food prepared and there seemed to be an abundance of lilies and roses. _Flowers,_ he thought, _should have sent flowers._ While he kicked himself mentally, Chin Lady whose name he didn't think he'd been given was talking.

"I thought it was awful nice you called by last time. Trudi and Kate told me that you were here to see Dinah and I thought it was awful nice."

"Uh huh." Didn't know her name, didn't know her relationship to Dinah or Phil. Was unsure what the "awful nice" was about.

"I went home to my husband, Tony," Had a husband. Tony. "And I told him you called by and he said to me, 'Joyce'," _Joyce!_ No. Rang no bells. "'Joyce,' he said, 'there's a nice young man who comes in person to see the widow.'"

Yeah. That was him. Nice young man.

Joyce leaned forward conspiratorially. "And don't listen to what those others say."

He looked at her.

"I don't think it's too soon," Joyce smiled and there was a tear trickling down her face and the chins wobbled and his eyes widened.

"No, no," he said quickly. "Nothing like that, Joyce. I just want to…"

"I know," Joyce said with a smile. "I think it's romantic."

_Romantic?_

The door opened and women entered. Many women. There may have been an occasional man but they were insignificant in the scheme of things. And then he saw Lorraine and Kate and Tildy and close behind them Trudi and Madeleine and he saw the very moment when they saw him and they immediately descended into huddles.

And they weren't alone. He wasn't being paranoid. Really he wasn't. There were about four or five similar half conversations going on round the room. Rusty gritted his teeth. He needed to find Dinah and offer condolences and leave.

There was no sign of Dinah.

He stood on his own in a crowded room and normally, he could deal with that. Easily. But there was only one exit. And it wasn't quite a clear run. And the looks were affecting him more than they should do, more than they ought to. He bit his lip and stood his ground. He wasn't going to run again. That would be stupid. Wasn't like any of it was true and it wasn't like any of it _mattered._ Self-consciousness had never been an issue. He'd crossed a room at a party buck naked before now and not cared a bit. He was supremely unbothered by what people thought and what they said and God, if he hadn't been unbothered, he would have been in trouble before now. But this was different. Somehow this was different. He took a deep breath and put up with the eyes on him and the gossip he was swimming in. He wasn't a coward. And he was being ridiculous. And he badly wanted to hear the word "idiot" right about now.

Ten minutes, he stood solitary in the middle of the wake. Head up, lazy amusement, casual grin, gritted teeth. And then he found Joyce at his side.

"Dinah's going to be a while," she said. "She wanted to spend some time alone at the graveside."

"Right. Thanks."

He could wait. He could. The room was warm and it was hard to breathe but that was OK. Wasn't like he was being smothered. Wasn't torture. It really wasn't. He took a deeper breath than normal. Wasn't anything he couldn't deal with. He edged a little closer to the door. Wasn't like he was on his own and hurting. The door was now in his sights and he breathed easier. Wasn't like he was watching Danny suffer. Stupid. He swallowed.

And then he felt rather than saw the pincer movement. Three groups of curious women descending on him with questions and looks and conclusions all of their own.

Instinct took over. Rusty ran.

* * *

He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror and damn it, he could hear the laughter, loud and long and rich and hearty.

"It's alright for you," Rusty muttered and immediately felt guilty. It really wasn't alright for Danny. But there would have been mocking. Make that a lot of mocking.

Rusty sighed. He had to try again.

* * *

He gave it a clear couple of days. Time for all the relatives to disperse and all the friends to go on their merry way. With just a hint of foreboding he knocked on the door and waited for Joyce to answer. It was a shock when Dinah did.

"Dinah!"

Relief and smile and Dinah smiled back.

"Come in, Rusty."

"You on your own?" he asked, not moving.

"Yes," she nodded and he stepped inside and found Joyce sitting in the kitchen.

"Apart from our neighbour, Joyce," Dinah added.

Joyce apparently didn't count.

"Hello, Joyce," he said.

Joyce didn't exactly clasp both hands to her bosom and sigh happily but the look in her eyes suggested she might at any moment.

"I told Dinah you came by the day of the funeral."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry I missed you, Dinah."

"S'OK. And Rusty, I know what you're trying to do."

She did? Oh, she didn't. Really she didn't.

"And thank you. I can really do with a friend right now."

Huh. Maybe she did…maybe she didn't…he didn't want to take any chances.

"Look," Rusty said firmly, determined to make things clear. "A coffee would be terrific."

"Yes. It would," Dinah smiled.

The phone rang and she headed to answer it.

"Oh, Trudi…" she sighed and Rusty winced. "Thank you so much for calling. No, I'm doing fine. Rusty's called by."

He wanted to grab the phone and tell Trudi that Joyce was here and they were being chaperoned, thank you very much.

Dinah put her hand over the mouth piece.

"This call's going to take a while. You want to swing by about six and pick me up?"

He looked at her blankly.

"For the coffee," she explained with a frown and he nodded stupidly. "Great. Joyce, would you mind showing Rusty out?"

Joyce didn't mind in the slightest. She beamed at Rusty and with good grace, he let her take his arm and waddle towards the door with him.

"So pleased," she wheezed. "She needs taking out of herself. Or indeed, just taking out."

She chuckled at her own joke as she closed the door on him and Rusty raised his eyes to heaven and wondered just how funny the powers that be thought this was.

* * *

He'd taken Dinah out for coffee. He'd even started to say how sorry he was to hear about Phil but Dinah had crumpled and he'd shut up quickly. She'd disappeared to the bathroom to fix her face and he'd stared down at his empty coffee cup and wondered not for the first time that evening how this situation had come to pass and then sighed and ordered more macchiatos with extra caramel syrup.

When Dinah had returned, red-eyed but composed, she'd talked about when she and Phil had first met. She'd broken a heel and he'd caught her as she'd fallen and smiled at her and taken her for a drink.

"Such a gentleman and such a silver tongue on him," Dinah said and Rusty had agreed. That had been Phil.

"Thank you, Rusty," she'd sighed as he'd taken her home.

"S'fine," he said and it was. Even though he was certain Joyce's net curtains were twitching.

"Can we do this again?" she asked and he looked into her eyes at the need to talk and he didn't need Danny to tell him what the right answer was.

* * *

Two nights later and they were sitting in an Italian restaurant and there was risotto and chicken cacciatore and tiramisu and zabaglione and Rusty was telling the story of how he and Danny and Phil had relieved one of the First National Banks of Missouri of the contents of its vault.

"Everything went well until we went back through the tunnel. Then there was this almighty explosion up ahead and we both looked at Phil. Wasn't him at all. Turned out to be an unstable consignment of fireworks in the toy store. Whole shop was ablaze by the time we got out. Plus 911 had arrived."

"What did you do?" Dinah's eyes were wide.

"Impersonated fire officers," Rusty said matter-of-factly as he spooned tiramisu into his mouth. "Phil put on this Irish accent. He was very convincing."

"Sounds like Phil," Dinah said fondly.

* * *

The next night and Dinah was relaying the story of the Thanksgiving Phil had come home tattered and torn and battered and burnt.

"He'd just got out alive," she whispered and Rusty reached across the table and squeezed her hand.

* * *

They met for a drink in a bar and Dinah was talking about the way Phil made her feel.

"So special," she said. "So alive. Like my life began when I met him." She looked down at her hands. "What am I going to do without him, Rusty?"

"He used to talk about you," he told her truthfully. "He used to say that you were his girl with laughing eyes and that you were strong. So very strong. He used to say he couldn't do what he did without you waiting for him back at home. You were what kept him going. You can get through this."

Dinah's face lit up with pride and hope and impulsively, Rusty leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

* * *

He'd finally brought the flowers. Yellow roses. Bright and cheerful and hopeful. Lilies had seemed so funereal and inappropriate. Dinah had loved them.

"I'm- _we're_ sorry about Phil," he said quietly, standing on the doorstep. "He was a good guy."

"Yes, he was." Dinah smiled from behind the roses. And it wasn't a smile of sadness, it was a smile of happy memory. "Thank Danny for me when you can and thank _you_, Rusty."

She kissed him, soft and sisterly and Rusty didn't care who saw.


End file.
